Jux: The Chance Chronicles
by lightningmouse
Summary: An off-shot of the Juxtaposition AU, written for the Fan-Fanfiction contest hosted by Vaeru & Cafei. Take a Decepticon saboteur, Wheeljack's lab and 2 displaced Earthwomen, then see what you end up with... AN: Presently on Hiatus because of Ghost Unit.
1. It's All About Chance

**Title**: It's All About Chance  
**Series**: The Chance Chronicles, Chapter 1  
**Universe**: Transformers. A Juxtaposition sidestory/AU, set as an alternate of the Jux comics by Cafei and the AU Juxtaposition series by Vaeru (Dreaming of Who?). Go to Vaeru's page and read the bio to get a look at the whole thing, with handy dandy links to Cafei's Deviant Art page as well as all of Vaeru's fanfics at I highly recommend reading/viewing their work, as it will give you crucial setting and background for this series. ) (Also, the main series is a damn good read and the AU off-shot story & related comics are plain hilarious!)  
**Note**: Thank you to Vaeru & Cafei, for the Juxtaposition Fan-Fanfic contest and their kindness in letting me expand my entry into a series.

------------------------------  
**It's all about Chance**  
------------------------------

He was, Ravage decided, the stealthiest, coolest cat around, no doubt about it. That the very reference to earth mammals would have sent Soundwave into paroxysms of displeasure (i.e. a vaguely disapproving look) only served to enhance the cassette's smugness. The files Laserbeak had hacked into shortly after they'd left the mudball planet they'd last stopped at had been fascinating and for all that the weird squishy organics who lived upon it were nigh incomprehensible to him, he still thought the new shape he'd worked out for himself was made of sheer and incontestable awesome.

And it made Soundwave _twitch_ each time he saw the cassette slinking about in his new shape. Making Soundwave actually twitch (even if just slightly) was an achievement which had earned him the other cassettes approval and first dibs on near anything he might lay claim to for the next century. Including this mission, which he wasn't sure was exactly what he'd wanted to get originally, but he supposed it was a good way to prove that his alt shape had been a good idea. Or something like that. The whole concept had sounded pretty nifty when Laserbeak had first suggested it, anyway. And while all the others had been caught during the original attempt to secure the squishie with the weird energy reading, he was still quite undetected, right? Right. Or so he kept telling himself as he slunk through the various ducts and repair access ways he'd been hiding in for the past week since the Decepticon force had attempted to invade the Autobots' stupid, annoyingly sentient ship. Which he, the super stealth cat of doom, was more than able to shield himself from, when it came to being detected.

A grate beyond him gleamed invitingly, along with the faint readings of energon and Ravage nearly bolted towards the source of sustenance before slowing himself down. While he was (literally he was sure) dying for even the tiniest sip of energon, at this time, running into any sort of laboratory (which this was, he could tell because of the seared walls from obviously recent explosions and the fact that Very Odd Things were strewn about, making Even Odder Noises) was not the smartest thing to do.

The container with leftover energon rested slightly askew on a table of the darkened laboratory and Ravage found the sight too tempting to resist. After certain no one was still in the room and making free use of his own impressive skills of stealth and nigh invisibility in darkness, Ravage opened the grate and squirmed out, landing lightly on the floor before beginning to stalk the source of sustenance.

The tremors that ran through the ship on a near regular basis were nothing new – at least not for Evelyn. Her still new to the-insanity-that-were-Wheeljack's-experiments companion was another story though.

"Awk!" The cardinal "never stand near the edge of anything far off the ground" rule had been, clearly, totally forgotten by the newcomer. As Evelyn bemusedly turned around to find out what was wrong, the sight of a flailing, unbalanced girl teetering over the edge of the table (the high, robot sized table) was a bit unsettling. Maybe even panic inducing. With a side order of "ohmigodohmigodshe'sgonnadieshe'sgonnadie" at that.

_I think she's gonna fall_, was the idle thought from her unwilling tenant.

_No kidding, Nimrod! What gave that away?!_

Evelyn's expression quickly changed from flummoxed to terrified as she lunged forward, trying to catch hold of any of the wildly wind-milling appendages before the dark haired girl tipped over. And utterly failed to do so as Cafei went over the edge with a strangled sound. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Evelyn managed to not scream too loudly as she clapped her hands to her ears. This wasn't the highest place to be mucking about in the infirmary, but it wasn't exactly just a few feet worth of falling, either.

**CRUNCH!**

_Huh. That sound wasn't right for an organic. _

With a small whimper, Evelyn ignored Sideswipe's comment and managed to make herself look over the edge. And blinked. Cafei was stirring weakly, though she seemed to be in one piece and there was a thorough lack of blood or anything resembling it anywhere near her prone form. No oddly twisted limbs. No agony or death either. The faint mutter of resentful pain Cafei emitted as she moved a bit more firmly and then slowly started to try and stand up while checking her arms and legs confirmed Evelyn's original assessment that the girl hadn't killed herself or incurred serious injury after all. Somehow.

"Huh."

_Hrm. She didn't go squish. Why not?_

_...you sound so concerned..._

_Aw, c'mon! I didn't meant it in a bad way!_

"Mrr."

"Mrr?" Evelyn repeated the sound reflectively, even as she leaned forward a bit more, breaking her own rule about high tables and edges.

"That wasn't me," was the pained response, as Cafei slowly pried herself off whatever had served as a landing pad. The agonized sound was repeated, even as Cafei exclaimed in dismay. Obviously ignoring the various aches and bruises she'd earned during her fall, the woman leaned down and scooped up a small form, cooing at it worriedly.

"Aw! I think I squished the kitty! And it saved my life too!"

_...we mentioned insane, right?_

"...kitty? Cafei, there aren't any cats here." Evelyn peered down, trying to make out what Cafei was so enthusiastically cuddling to herself.

_She's nuts. You know that._

_Shut up! ...I think I should go check this out. Ugh, I hate that ladder._

_Hey, exercise is good for you, right?_

_Clearly, you're not the one who has to actually use the damn thing. I can tell, because you sound so damn cheerful each time I have to use it._

_You are just so grumpy, you know that?_

The trip took far too long, even if it was a far shorter proposition to head down as opposed to up the damn ladder, with Sideswipe heckling her cheerfully the entire way. Finally Evelyn reached the ground and headed towards the now curled up Cafei, who held a small form cradled in her arms.

"Aw! Poor baby... I'm so sorry!" Still cooing over the tiny black shape she held in her arms, Cafei looked up at Evelyn. "I think he's ok. He's ok, right?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow and made no mention of the spectacularly darkening vista of bruises slowly starting to adorn the visible potions of Cafei's skin.

"He?"

"He," Cafei nodded wisely. "We're gonna call him Chance." She beamed up at the linguist, and returned to her fussing and cooing, the shifting about finally giving Evelyn a look at exactly what Cafei was holding.

_Um. Evelyn? That's not-_

"Ohmigod! He's so cute!" The last word ended on a high-pitched squeal as Evelyn knelt down to look at the tiny black metallic kitten blinking up owlishly at her in dazed confusion, Cafei's fall and subsequent bruising utterly forgotten. "Maybe Wheeljack made him as a pet for us? He was going on about some new project of his not long ago!" Beaming, she reached down and gently petted the creature's head, before skritching it gently behind the ear. The tiny pink mouth – which had obviously been opening widely so that Chance could attempt to take a chunk out of her hand – paused and the kitten's red eyes went something like askew as she reached the Right Spot any cat lover knew about. The kitten blinked once, then twice, and suddenly twisted around, flopping further in Cafei's arms while leaning into the motion of Evelyn's hand with a bemused, rusty sounding purr. One paw reached out and flexed, slowly, as though testing the motion as utterly new and confusing.

_Not a kitten, Evelyn._

_Purring. Check. Tiny and cute. Check. Metallic? Oh, he gets away with it fabulously with the gloss and all._

_What? HEY! I've got gloss! I'm all over the slaggin' gloss I'll have you know!_

_Oooh. I get it! You're just jealous cause he's way cuter than you are._

Evelyn smirked at the wordless indignation which swelled up in reaction to her comment, and it didn't take much to image the ensuing huff and flounce as the voice went deathly quiet. She returned her attention to Chance, while Cafei – still sitting down and very intently not getting up – beamed at her happily.

"Best. Surprise. Ever!"

The recently miniaturized Ravage blinked up at the human with the strange energy readings, and decided that maybe sticking around a bit longer and investigating events more in depth was a good thing to do. Even if it meant risking getting squashed again while on a mad flight to get as far away as possible from yet another Laboratory Of Evil explosion. (Why, oh why, did the Autobots have to have one of these too? Huh?) It was part of his mission and all. Soft, organic fingertips reached for that spot behind his ear again and he purred blissfully. The purring thing was fun. Maybe. He had to test it more to be sure. And he could sacrifice his dignity somewhat for the sake of the petting, er, the mission.

After all, finding out stuff was his job, right?


	2. Cat vs Medic, Round 1

**Title**: Cat vs Medic, Round 1  
**Series**: The Chance Chronicles, Chapter 2  
**Universe**: Transformers. A Juxtaposition sidestory/AU, set as an alternate of the Jux comics by Cafei and the AU Juxtaposition series by Vaeru (Dreaming of Who?).

----------------------------------  
**Cat vs Medic, Round 1  
**----------------------------------

It had been three days since he had been "adopted" by the squishies, and Ravage had been thoroughly engrossed in applying his considerable skills at staying out of anyone's sight while ferreting out information towards the understanding of squishies in general, and figuring out why one had those odd energy readings in particular. This was, of course, interspersed with great quantities of time spent 1) indulging the squishies in their illusion that he was their new "pet", particularly since this made his work easier in general and 2) living up the high life as a thoroughly spoiled cat.

Point 2 would never make it into any report given to anyone. Ever. Possibly point 1, too.

If he lived long enough to file one, anyway. For it was currently Ravage's deep seated belief that he was about to die. A horrible, terrifying death.

"SLAGGIT YOU INFERNAL CREATURE! GET OUT FROM UNDER MY DESK!"

The faint scrabbling of miniature claws on deck plates was the only answer Ratchet received as Ravage did his best impersonation of a (non-existent) speck of dust under the enraged medic's desk.

"NOW!"

A defiant meep was the only audible response, Ravage stating his very firm intention to stay exactly where he was, thank you very much. The Decepticon had _heard_ about the medic, whose reputation had been spread far and wide among the ranks of his brethren, and he'd learned more than enough to know that it would take a hell of a lot more than shouting and deck rattling (as impressive as it was) to make him even consider moving from the spot he'd found refuge under. Not, of course, that he'd screeched in sheer terror like an infant sparkling the moment the medic had loomed over him out of the blue earlier, one peeved looking optic settling on the saboteur with unerring precision. Nor, for that matter, that he'd nearly brained himself hopping off the table (he still forgot things were considerably bigger now) while ending up planting his claws in the bot's leg to slow down his fall to a suddenly rather far off floor. Not at all. Not one bit.

...well, the claws-in-bot thing maybe he'd take credit for. It had been a brilliant and inventive way to create enough of a fuss and surprise effect so that he'd had time to find cover, the medic howling in shock and outrage at the gouges created by the tiny yet still wickedly effective set of claws Ravage currently sported.

"You stop yelling at Chance!" had been the twin cries of protest from the usual inhabitants of the medbay, both trying to find a way to get to the ground as quickly as possible, without much success.

Both of the squishies had been left behind during the mad scramble, Ratchet trying to get a grip on a tiny cat-bot tearing through his bay, Ravage making more than judicious use of his smaller size to make that goal impossible to achieve, but their very outraged howls of protest could still be heard with surprising clarity. It hadn't affected the medic in any way, unfortunately, leading to Ravage's current predicament, involving a desk, a crack in a nearby wall he had _no_ intention of investigating, knowing only too well the hazard that might await him there (he actually listened to what the squishies talked about, unlike some – and the menacing sparks of current illuminating the darkness there held more than a hint of "step in here and I'll fry your circuits" to him)...

...and impending doom. Yes, that.

Ears pinned back, Ravage hissed, and nearly squawked in protest at the sound he emitted, which had nothing to do with fierce and menacing and a lot more to do with cute and tiny. Again.

That was so not cool.

---

"Ratchet, what's going on?" Wheeljack sounded mostly curious as he peered from the other side of the doorway, not at all wondering if Ratchet had finally blown something loose in his logic processor. Angry and howling at someone was, after all, a relative sign of sanity where the medic was concerned – it was when he got quiet and pleasant one really had to consider worrying. And possibly making a run for it, perhaps not stopping until one reached the next galaxy. Or ten.

The look of pure murder the medic shot him over one shoulder had Wheeljack computing distances and time of travel for either alternative, however, even as he squared his shoulders and straightened up to step into full view through the doorway. Evelyn and Cafei had been just been _so_ very adamant about him finding their "kitty" (whatever that was, though preliminary research seemed to indicate some sort of small, domesticated mammal) and saving Chance from utter doom (what did luck have to do with needing to be saved, anyway?). And while he really didn't want to face an obviously angry Ratchet so soon after his lab had blown up (and he hadn't even been in there for once!), the fact that a life depended on his swift actions had been thoroughly impressed upon him.

...and it was nice to have someone ask him for help, for once.

"...um. Why are you trying to get under your desk?" Tactfully, the discarded laser on one side of the desk and the stack of medical instruments strewn on the other side were left unmentioned. As was the thoroughly wrecked state of the medical bay outside the office. Even if there _was_ definite potential for remarking on how it looked like Wheeljack's own lab (not blown up), at the moment. Mainly, Wheeljack did like staying in one piece, despite what some rumours said. But also, Wheeljack was pretty sure he just really didn't want to know. "And why are Evelyn and Cafei so upset?"

It was the second question, and the obvious concern coloring Wheeljack's voice that gave Ratchet pause. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the floor, eyeing the mess that was his office with a slightly rueful expression. A sudden, tiny hissing sound from the depths of the messier area under the knocked over desk, drew Wheeljack's attention away from Ratchet, long enough for the medic to push himself up and move away from the desk. This allowed some room for the inventor to lean down, then go to his knees to peer underneath the desk and in the darkness.

"They seem to have adopted a small pet. Insist it came from your lab." The implications of this, twinned to the latest Pop-Goes-Wheeljack's-Lab event gave the scientist only the briefest of pauses. The tiny twin red pinpricks of light glowing under the desk captured his attention entirely and not even the drilling sensation in the back of his neck as Ratchet glared down at him could draw his focus away.

"Oh my," Wheeljack murmured the words lowly, even as he enhanced his vision in an attempt to make out the small shape the baleful glare belonged to. Ratchet stared in surprise as the inventor laid himself on the ground entirely, not even trying to reach under the desk once, merely observing.

"And what have we here, I wonder..." Resting his chin on his hands, Wheeljack started running through various probabilities, a small sound of amusement escaping him when the second hiss now directed his way ended in a small squeak of interrogation. "So that's what they meant." The reflective tone to Wheeljack's voice had throw Ratchet entirely off track, and his rage at the intruder forgotten, the medic remained quiet, letting the scientist think through whatever new parameters had captured his fancy.

Reaching out carefully towards the tiny shape hovering under the desk, Wheeljack paused midway, content to let it close the rest of the distance whenever it became so inclined. "Poor thing. Here you are, minding your own business, and Ratchet stomps in and starts yelling at you..."

Ratchet gaped in stunned indignation at Wheeljack's world, causing the other bot to peek over his shoulder with a mischievous glint in his optics. Both bots thus missed the evil gleam in the felinoid's own optics, hidden as he was under the desk. With a sudden, demanding meep, Ravage butted his head against the inventor's outstretched hand and then crawled up inside the huge palm, settling in comfortably. Even Ratchet's infuriated growl was met with a placid look, the tiny form curling up smugly in the hollow of Wheeljack's hand as he stood up.

"I'm going to-"

"Hold it." Wheeljack's held a stern authority rarely used with anyone aboard the ship, but all of its residents knew to pay very quiet (and usually unmoving) attention to him when he spoke in such tones. "I think I know what happened."

These words nearly caused Ravage's processors to freeze on the spot, and the Decepticon fell back on the one thing which had carried him through the past three days, by pure instinct. With a low, casual sound, the felinoid twisted in one of those contortions which he'd never thought possible, one miniscule-by-comparison paw idly rising in the air towards Wheeljack's faceplates.

"Start talking." Peering down with intense curiosity and amusement at the Decepticon cradled in his hand, Wheeljack ran through the sequence of events pertaining to Ravage in particular with unerring accuracy, from the start of the Decepticon strike force's entry upon Metellus to its hasty departure, minus several phase capable and other assorted Decepticons . And, evidently, minus one small cassette. A shaken Ravage had to distantly admit to a hefty dose of admiration at the bot's deductive logic processes, as his entry in Metellus all the way to his arrival to the lab and the ensuing explosion were all correctly divined. Including the fact that the chaos of the gunfights ongoing in several parts of the ship along with several phase capable Decepticons constantly crisscrossing through Metellus' sensors had likely helped his own, far more discreet entry to remain unnoticed. (The greater part of it due to his own considerable infiltration abilities, of course, though Ravage wasn't going to enlighten them as to that while playing up the silly cat act, of all things.)

And then, Wheeljack made one critical error.

"...and I think the explosion in my lab along with the... er, resizing," the inventor rushed over that word, hoping not to remind Ratchet of the fact that he'd been working on a new experiment so soon since the last explosion, "must have jarred his memory circuits."

"Amnesia?" Ratchet stared at the felinoid in curled up in Wheeljack's hand suspiciously. The purring directed at Wheeljack paused, and the look was returned with one of equal warning and disdain. Even if he'd thought the medic would be pliable to his considerable charm (which had clearly translated even into this ridiculously small form), Ravage had absolutely no intention of making nice with him. War had been declared, and Ravage intended to win. His way. Unaware of the thoughts running through the felinoid's mind, Wheeljack just shrugged.

"He's been with the girls for three days, now. Do you honestly think a Decepticon would have stayed so long, without doing either of them permanent harm?"

"I'm going to need to run some test," was the flat reply. Even if the Decepticon was currently amnesic now, it didn't mean he might not recover his memory at an inopportune time. Or that he might not have picked up Primus knew what skulking about Primus knew where – as far as the medic was concerned, a thorough virus check was the least of the measures that needed to be undertaken. Ratchet reached out, very clearly meaning to pick up Ravage by the scruff of the neck.

The resulting chaos left Wheeljack as the sole island of calm in the office once more, shaking his head gently as he murmured to himself.

"I don't think the cat likes you, Ratchet."

His words were entirely lost on the medic.

"GET BACK HERE YOU MISBEGOTTEN FIEND FROM THE PITS!"

---

"Apologize!" Cafei's chin jutted out mutinously as she glared up at the far larger Ratchet towering above her. She scowled, both hands firmly planted on her hips, even as Evelyn cuddled a piteous looking Chance carefully while shooting Ratchet dark glances every now and then. Both women had thoroughly inspected the felinoid once Wheeljack had brought him back to them, humming cheerfully to himself, Ratchet following close behind, one optic twitching in a disturbing way. That Chance had been purring at the inventor had not been lost on them, and his title of Knight In Shining Armor (there weren't even too many scorch marks too, just then) was firmly and forever engraved in their minds. And when Chance had launched himself at them with a near desperate meep of relief, both had also instantly decided that Ratchet deserved every single dent and scratch on his frame and any attempt to inform them otherwise had been met with unamused glares and a thrown shoe for good measure.

For beings which were so small, female humans could be rather fearsome, Wheeljack reflected, as he watched the standoff.

Ratchet snarled something unintelligible and shook his head in negation once more at Cafei before turning to leave, but found it impossible to even back up to complete the gesture or move away, the bulk of Wheeljack firmly planted behind him proving to be oddly immovable. The scientist didn't say anything at all as Ratchet glared at him ferociously, returning the hostility with an amiable look of amusement and affection.

"Traitor." With a resigned look, Ratchet extended one fingertip towards the small felinoid bot, disgusted at the very notion of having to make "peace" with the irritating creature. Even as inoffensive as he was now, thanks to whatever had glitched his processes in the explosion.

Ravage eyed the proffered digit contemplative, then yawned once, before curling about to give Evelyn a sweet, positively angelic look. And then turned back to sniff at the medic's hand.

**CHOMP!**

------  
See _Transformers: Juxtaposition_ by Vaeru, chapters 20, 21 & 22 for the actual events.


	3. First Impressions

**Title**: First Impressions  
**Series**: The Chance Chronicles, Chapter 3  
**Universe**: Transformers. A Juxtaposition sidestory/AU, set as an alternate of the Jux comics by Cafei and the AU Juxtaposition series by Vaeru (Dreaming of Who?).

----------------------------------  
**First Impressions  
**----------------------------------

_So bored..._

The squishies were gone and as such, Ravage found himself in a rather vexing situation. No one to charm into tending to his every whim (and the squishies, he had discovered, were particularly amenable to such a thing), no one to randomly pet him (the short haired squishie's habit of attempting to pounce him in a mad hug were particularly entertaining in that there were so many ways to foil her with an endless variety of amusing results) and in general, no one to distract him from the everlasting, mind-numbing boringness which came with being on a ship full of boring and unoriginal _Autobots_.

Also, Ratchet had been gone for hours and wasn't available to innocently taunt, mock or otherwise drive insane until he tried to make a grab for Ravage (again) only to get a shoe – or anything else the squishies might have at hand – chucked at him (again).

And so, Ravage was bored. Dreadfully bored. None of the Autobots were conveniently at hand to offer distraction, which was most inconsiderate of them. One would think they would have better manners, being a bunch of goody two-shoes and all. And the squishies weren't coming back even though they'd promised they'd not be away for too long. Stupid Autobot social times.

Ravage pensively batted the marker he'd found off the table, and sulked.

It wasn't _fair_.

With a long-suffering sigh, Ravage flopped to one side, eyeing his reflection on a nearby surface, stretching out one perfect (and cute, slag it all) paw, claws extending experimentally.

_Bored. Bored bored bored bored boooooored..._

---

The long voyages which filled Metellus' existence were, for the better part, uneventful. At least, they had been until the hostilities with the Decepticons had begun. But still, even then – they all held the same quality to them, and it didn't take long for even these kinds of voyages to become a blur to the long lived Cybertronian.

Recently though, things had become... interesting.

Even moreso since a Decepticon had taken up residence in the medbay, along with the organics he now sheltered deep within his confines. The Sideswipe personality he'd seen the one exhibit was, truth be told, one he'd not mind snapping his doors on sternly every now and then. But the Evelyn-organic... had a certain endearing quality about her. And the Cafei-organic had provided more amusement than he'd seen in quite some time!

Never, however, had Metellus thought that a Decepticon would manage to provide THE highest level of entertainment he'd had in as long as he could remember...

With a low chuckle, translating as the slightest of shifts in the pitch of the great ship's engines for anyone else to not notice, Metellus shifted the surface in which Ravage was admiring himself, ever so slightly. Enabling, he had found of late, was a fun hobby.

---

It was the glint of something shiny which caught Ravage's attention. Eyes narrowing slightly, the felinoid lifted his head, still staring at his reflection – or rather, the blinking light which flared now and then, on the metallic surface of the wall he'd been using as a mirror. Contemplatively, Ravage turned around to look over his shoulder, tracking the angle of reflection to a shelf located on the far wall. After a moment, the blink of light happened once more.

Blink.

Wink

Blink.

It was taunting him.

It took all of twenty-six seconds before Ravage succumbed to (quite natural!) curiosity and started to pad forward towards the edge of the table. A few pauses here and there occurred, to make it clear to the whateveritwas that Ravage wasn't really in the least interested in it and was only wandering in that direction because he felt like it. It took another minute and a half for the Decepticon to make his way down the table, one pause involve the studious scrutiny of his claws (still too short and cute to be truly effective) and another focusing on a thorough check of the state of his paintjob (still pristine and glossy, so there).

Finally, Ravage peered up (and up) at the shelf from the ground. And reached forward to pensively bat at the wall holding up the shelf with the very inviting blinks of light.

His surprise at a sudden creaking sound was considerably enough that he nearly forgot to leap and twist out of the way of the crashing shelf.

He did not forget to meep in pure glee at the sight of nearly a hundred small metallic ball bearings spilling out from an open container to scatter in every single direction on the floor of the medbay, any semblance of coherency fleeing his processors in a nanosecond.

_Shiny! FUN!_

---

Sunstreaker was, as per usual about 99 of the time (because this included even recharge time, or so Sideswipe would tell anyone willing to listen) in a bad mood. He'd run afoul of Prowl (again) due to some altercation with some of the others (they'd totally deserved being put through the wall in his estimate, thank you very much). And in general, life sucked and he wanted his brother back preferably now and with a few Decepticons nearby to beat the living slag of, please and even thank you. It's not like he was asking for _that_ much, right?

What he found instead as he walked in the medbay was a _thing_ scampering playfully on the floor, batting tiny metallic ball bearings across the floor of the medbay. Meeping to itself._Cheerfully_.

Sunstreaker hated it on sight.

He hated it more when he realized that the step forward he'd taken wasn't stopping. Because the tiny metallic ball bearings hasn't just been spread in front of him, but also where he'd been walking as he stepped inside the Medbay. They were _everywhere_.

The resulting crash nearly sent Ravage's processors into lockdown as he jumped far higher than he normally would have, whirling around to see what was going on. And landed on a large, rapidly moving mass which howled as he dug in his claws on landing and then slammed into the far wall. Eyes tightly shut, Ravage hung on for the ride, hoping he wasn't going to end up ingloriously squished in an Autobot ship. After a moment, the flailing and the skidding stopped, and only the sound of the ball bearings skittering about remained. Along with a low growl.

The growl wasn't his, which registered as an odd fact to the felinoid. The whine of a charging cannon was all Ravage needed to hear to know Something Was Definitely Wrong. Wide-eyed, bright red optics met narrowed pale blue. Stunned surprise clashed with impending murder and with a high pitched, strangled meep of shock (not terror, nope, not one bit), Ravage madly scrambled off the prone Autobot he'd landed on and ran through a sea of ball bearings, straight for the still open medbay doors. Cursing, bellowing, at least three cannon shots and several crashes heralded the yellow mech's intent to hunt the felinoid down and end him.

---

(The claw streaks left behind on his paintjob did nothing at all to help Sunstreaker's already foul disposition, as half the ship's populace would attest to later on, when queried by Prowl as to the nature of the events leading to the latest disaster in the medbay. Proof also found about most of the ship in the shape of several scorch marks – from a cannon set to low level, thankfully – leaving an easy trail to follow for anyone wishing to do so.)

---

The state Ratchet found his medbay in upon his return with Evelyn and Cafei left the medic staring, in shock. Both women decided that it was imperative to evacuate their current means of travel, resulting in a skinned knee and a bruised elbow for Evelyn and a bump on the head for Cafei ("All safe, no damage there!" Evelyn had stated, ignoring Cafei's squawk of protest at the implications of that statement.)

Before Ratchet's reaction could unfold in all of its glory, the medbay doors snapped open, allowing access to a wide-eyed, obviously terrified Ravage (this time, really, not – but the act would most certainly have the squishies ready to pick on the idiotic slagger chasing him, Ravage knew and he well anticipated the results of the day's work). Skidding, the felinoid veered sharply to run right between both of Ratchet's legs, claws digging in as he jumped upwards and used the wall and the side of a cabinet to get back on top of the table in a series of agile, clever leaps. He landed and made a beeline for Cafei's lap, pouncing on her swiftly enough that she was knocked from her upright position to her butt, thus providing the perfect location to observe the results as Sunstreaker followed in at high speeds, never once looking up from the ground, cannon still smoking from the last shot taken at his tormentor. The doors slammed into the larger mech's foot before he could clear the doorway then released him, sending him wind-milling and off course.

Crashing right into Ratchet.

Ravage purred at the suddenly not so enraged and perhaps even apprehensive look on the hideously yellow Autobot's face (Shoot-Me-Now-Yellow, he'd dubbed the color), the sound loud and echoing in the sudden silence which had fallen in the medbay. He'd decided on his course of action (aka, Get The Obnoxiously Yellow Autobot in Trouble) about thirty seconds into the mad race across the ship. The chance at entertainment (and sabotage, which was why he was _in_ said ship to start with!) had been far too tempting to not act upon. And it had nothing to do with being bored and distracted by shiny things. Of course.

The only other interruption to the deceptive calm reigning in the medbay was the low grinding sound emanating from the medic, which was most satisfying too as far as he was concerned. Twisting around more comfortably in Cafei's lap, Ravage nipped at her arm, purring approvingly at the automatic pet he received as a result. Their training _was_ coming along _so_ well.

The sudden howls and curses and interrupted explanations ("DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO BLAME THE CAT YOU SLAGGER!") were music to Ravage's ears. And earned Ratchet several brownie points with both Evelyn and Cafei, but Ravage could live with that. He'd been tallying points and the medic still had a ways to go before being completely restored in the squishies' esteem.

The coming days had _potential_.

---

Evelyn winced at yet another metallic impact (this one had left a definite dent on Sunstreaker's shoulder) and reached out absently to pet Chance before he could nip at Cafei again. The felinoid absently wrapped a paw around her wrist and settled his chin on her hand as he watched the show, still purring lowly in satisfaction.

_...naw. Can't be._ Dismissing the idea as crazy, Evelyn returned to her own observation of the show, ignoring the obvious dilemma Sideswipe was undergoing, being clearly torn between laughing at his twin or sympathizing with him over having to deal with an enraged Medic.

The laughter won out, which was no surprise to Evelyn at all.

* * *

_**Note**__: Many thanks to the evil bunny rabbit for the ball bearings idea! And and all parenthesis abuse can solely be blamed on me.  
_

_**Note 2**__: I should have thought to say this before. If you guys are enjoying this, you really want to swing over to the Metellus Yahoo group, to read up on all the other entries to the Jux Fan Fanfiction contest. There are some truly wonderful entries there! ) See Vaeru's page for all the info needed to get there._

So, I'm still getting used to this comments/answers thing. XD Thank you for all your kind comments! )

**Soului**: As long as there's an idea/plot bunny to work with and the story doesn't feel tired, there should be a next chapter. I do have an idea of how this ends though, so there'll be an ending too at one point.

**Cafei**: Wait till it catches up with him. Mwahaha.

**Blazewing**: Not sure there's an actual equivalent, but he does discover something to get him in trouble in this chapter... ;)

**KdZeal**: I had no clue at all. Fixed now, thanks!


	4. Retribution

**Title**: Retribution  
**Series**: The Chance Chronicles, Chapter 4  
**Universe**: Transformers. A Juxtaposition sidestory/AU, set as an alternate of the Jux comics by Cafei and the AU Juxtaposition series by Vaeru (Dreaming of Who?).

--  
**Retribution  
**--

Ravage had settled into a comfortable rhythm since his "resizing" and subsequent introduction to the squishies on board Metellus. Though he would die before admitting as much, the change of pace from the usual rat-race involved with living among Decepticons had been... not entirely unpleasant. If you looked at the whole thing sideways and maybe even squinted a little bit.

Between the bouts of Autobot Tormenting he engaged in (who knew looking cute and inoffensive could actually deter retaliation, miniature Decepticon sigil embedded on his "hide" and all?) and phases of increasingly focused "train the squishies", Ravage had been getting a general idea of what the concept of vacation meant.

It was a rather novel sensation, all things considered.

He vaguely wondered if the Decepticons were enjoying the respite from having to deal with a bored-out-of-his-circuits-Ravage, every now and then. And enjoyed the thought that each time they let their guard down, one of the time delayed surprises he'd left lying about probably reminded them of his absence - and therefore, their inability to try and find him to exact reparation.

And **that** was a most enjoyable thought.

Even if he'd been at his most suspicious, though, he would never have seen Sideswipe coming, not in a million years.

--

He'd kept his peace and lurked in the background of Evelyn's mind ever since the Decepticon had been added to their little habitat in the medbay, despite his original furor and protests. Evelyn had rolled her eyes and accused him of sulking and ignored him as best she could from then on, even though he had no doubt she'd started to grow suspicious of his continued silence after a while. She'd not reached the breaking point yet though, and hadn't asked him if he was all right or what was going on, since he'd at least surfaced whenever they met with Sunstreaker in the hallways. (Sunstreaker flat out refused to have anything to do with the medbay or the small feline mech who lived within it. Evelyn had unwarily commented about Sunstreaker being just as bad as any cat, which had sent the yellow twin stalking off for the sparring area. Sideswipe had felt rather sorry for the mech who had staggered into the medbay a few hours later, looking a bit as though someone had dropped a planet on his head. Or three.)

While it had been entirely too funny to see his twin one-upped by a Decepticon, never mind one with a handicap of size and memory loss to boot, Sideswipe nevertheless felt he had to settle the score. Especially since he intended to torment his twin forever about the whole thing, once retaliation for said teasing might not involve instant death anymore. (It would be a while, he suspected. Quite a while, at that.)

Still, it had been deceptively easy to rig up the entire thing, in large part, he thought, because his silence had been kept in order to ensure that the Decepticon not find out the details about Evelyn's "condition" for the time it took to set the whole thing up. For all that the subject came up often in the infirmary, the specific details had largely remained unspecified which meant someone unawares of the entire situation ended up with precious little in the ways of information when it came to figuring things out.

(Or maybe Ratchet was right and the Decepticon really _was_ amnesic and reduced to a state of stupidity, Sideswipe sometimes allowed himself to wonder. But only sometimes.)

So when the howl of feline indignation echoed across the medbay, Sideswipe wasted no time in giving up on pretending to be asleep (though he made sure Evelyn still was, neatly tucked away in the back of her own mind). Scrambling his host over to the edge of the table to view the results of his trap, Sideswipe scanned the infirmary, looking for his victim. He laughed out loud (the sound was still weird and unsettling to him when he stopped to think about it) utterly pleased with himself as he surveyed the results of his prank. The paints clashed in the most absolutely horrifying of ways, and Sunstreaker would likely have been traumatized with disgust at the combination for quite some time before being able to appreciate the fact that it was a Decepticon who had been gifted with such a paint job.

The indignant Ravage snapped up a glare at the amused human snickering down at him, then nearly tripped on his own paws as he realized who was laughing, stabilizing himself at the last minute while wondering what in the universe was going on.

"Aw, did the widdle poor kitty trip and fall into some nasty paint?"

A strangled, confused hiss answered the question, the sound half-hearted and entirely perplexed as Ravage shook his head once more, sending neon pink and chartreuse splatters of paint falling to the floor in a multicolored rain of flecks and dots. It took another moment for Ravage to realize that the mocking tone held none of Evelyn's usual slurring Cybertronian. The sub-tonals and harmonics were still very much absent, but the dialect accent was far crisper, the bastardization of the word "kitty" the only thing even remotely close to Evelyn's way of speaking. The insult which followed was particularly inventive, too.

But, in the end, it was the smile that did it. That, along with several other details accumulated since his unexpected change in lifestyle, overheard and idly stored away to be puzzled over later – all those details suddenly merging to form a single picture which explained far too much. With a low rumble, Ravage crouched, determined to find out who had taken over _his_ squishie, and then get clear explanations as to what in the Pit was going on.

"Er..."

There was some measure of satisfaction in Ravage's processors when the look on the human's face changed from smugness to consternation as Ravage cleared the distance between them much faster than he'd ever done before during his residence in the medbay. He'd never been quite this _motivated_ before, after all.

"Eep!"

--

It had taken Ravage one trip and a half around the medbay to go from "gnaw the squishie till answers are given" to "find out who the hell has compromised my squishie while still not blowing up the amnesia detail thing sky high". The shouted threats and swears from the one he was pursuing indicated an extensive time in several of the more remote backwater areas as well as a definite knowledge of some of the more unsavory slums which generally remained unacknowledged by the Cybertron elite. That Ravage had slipped twice in the paint gradually covering an increasing expanse of floor (and walls, and shelves as well by then) was doing nothing good for the Decepticon's temper. Which hadn't been all that good to start with, considering how badly he dealt with being pranked in general, and how he detested being shown up in well... everything. (The last one to pull off a successful prank on him aboard _Thanatos_ had ended up suspended over the ship's drive right before a jump. His fellow cassettes had thought the whole thing absolutely brilliant. Soundwave had been too busy quietly melting a processor at the damage report to comment.)

Ravage came to a stop as the squishie clambered up a narrow rail leading to some of the higher shelving units. Its breathing was beginning to get rather labored and its color was alarming – Ravage knew well enough that this current physical condition his squishie was in would likely cause the medic ruling over the medbay with an iron fist (and wrench) to have a fit over the entire thing. That alone, he suspected, would be reward enough. Ravage had no doubt whoever was currently controlling the squishie would get a full blast rant for that. Perhaps, he thought, that might be enough for now. His tail twitched once as he watched the form high up above crawl over the edge of a shelf, scuffles indicating it was still moving while out of sight, until he spotted it once more, this time glaring down at him. The frown turned to a smirk as the realization that Ravage wasn't following settled in, the expression soon accompanied by yet another rude gesture.

It was, all things told, a rather obscure insult. One most Autobots likely wouldn't have any clue about and those who did wouldn't react for fear of giving away something unsavory to say the least.

Ravage's eyes widened at the gesture, part disbelief and part pure shock.

The ensuing feline howl of rage that instantly followed drew a startled yelp from the human high above, partly in wonder at the comprehension of the implied insult, partly in serious dismay at how fast the felinoid managed to get up that wall and on the shelf.

Scrambling away from Ravage, Sideswipe snarled in anger - at the Decepticon for startling him so badly, and at himself for getting caught in such an awkward situation. The felinoid was small but far from harmless – he remembered the damage the claws had inflicted on Sunstreaker's armor only too well.

A yelp from the Decepticon drew another rude gesture from his as he kept backing up, not liking the fact that the felinoid was suddenly scrambling towards him. Fast. The memory of his twin's clawed faceplate faded from his mind instantly, however, as his next backwards step encountered nothing but thin air.

_Ohslag._

The sound of claws digging into metal was the only thing Sideswipe could hear over the rush of blood in his ears as he kept tipping over.

_Wait... he was warning me? _

--

"What the...?"

The stunned whisper wasn't noticed by anyone else in the medbay at first, giving Ratchet ample time to shuffle through the doorway which closed a long moment later behind him, the door sliding shut with gentle care. The floor was liberally covered in dots of pink and revoltingly lurid green paint, and a series of marks (footprints on closer inspection) ran back and forth across the room. And, he realized, the shelves. And... the wall?

"What have you little monsters done _this_ time?"

A faint, urgent meep broke Ratchet's dismay long enough for the mech to spot a human dangling from the edge of one of the shelves, held in place only by a tiny felinoid's claws, dug deep into the paneling of the shelf. Chance's mouth was full of cloth as he hung on to both shelf and human clothing with wide, stunned eyes. With an oath, the medic scrambled towards the far wall of the medbay, just in time to catch both Evelyn and Chance as gravity finally laid its claim.

"Oof! I didn't need your help you stupid Decepticon!" The reaction was part relief at not having gotten Evelyn injured badly or possibly worse, and part embarrassment at the whole situation. Things had gotten out of hand, and Sideswipe was the first to admit as much – to himself at least.

Blinking, Ratchet stared for a moment at Evelyn's uncharacteristic tone of voice, watching the human scramble from a sprawl to a kneeling position, one fist being shaken furiously at the other being in his hand, before realizing it wasn't _Evelyn_ who was talking. The hostile answering hiss from a crouching, clearly furious and multicolored Chance confirmed his guess. It also gave him a pretty good idea as to what might have just occurred.

"Sideswipe. What are you doing?" If Ratchet's slow, measured tone wouldn't have been enough to draw Sideswipe's attention, the odd, sinister smile etching the bot's faceplates did the trick.

"Um..."

"You were hanging from a shelf. A very high shelf." Ratchet was practically beaming benevolently as he spoke. "If you had fallen, both you and Evelyn would very likely have died."

"Er..."

"Chance would not have survived the fall either." The faint twitch from the felinoid in his hand was ignored as Ratchet continued to give the Sideswipe-in-a-human on his hand a level, almost kind look.

"..."

"I'll talk to Evelyn." A pause. "Now."

Ratchet speaking in a gentle and calm voice was scarier than Howling-in-rage-Ratchet, Sideswipe decided numbly, before fleeing for the recesses of Evelyn's mind.

A feminine shriek of pure rage echoed through the medbay as Evelyn snapped back into focus.

"RATCHET! Get him out of my body SO I CAN KILL HIM!"

_Gah. I'm so doomed. _

The happy yowl of a delighted feline followed by a thump as it sprung for Evelyn's arms did nothing to make Sideswipe feel better.

--

Still furious over Sideswipe's actions, Evelyn hugged Chance a bit closer to herself as she finally finished the long trek to her sleeping area. Cafei, having returned from visiting Wheeljack said nothing, peeking from the edge of the table down at her. She reached out for Chance as Evelyn cleared the final feet needed to put her level with the other girl, and both of them watched as the small felinoid automatically curled up once more after the transfer, still in recharge. Ratchet had gone over the both of them with almost frightening intensity, putting Chance through several tests before letting Evelyn reclaim him. She wasn't sure what he'd been looking for, as each and every test performed on the amnesiac Decepticon seemed to return within whatever parameters Ratchet had assigned to the miniaturized creature, but eventually he'd had to stop, if only because Evelyn herself was just about ready to keel over on the spot.

"Aw," Cafei not quite murmured, both women having figured out a while ago that whispers tended to wake the small mech up on the spot, whereas just speaking lowly seemed to be completely acceptable a thing to do around him when he was in recharge. "He looks totally worn out..." A faint series of tremors rain through Chance's frame and Cafei rested a hand on him gently, hoping he wouldn't wake.

"Stupid Sideswipe," was the only response, Evelyn staring ahead at nothing with a darkling look.

_Hey! I tried to tell you he was a Decepticon. But did you listen to me? Nooooo! _

"Of course he's a Decepticon, _moron_. What, I'm blind or something? You think I wouldn't know that symbol after everything I've been through?"

Cafei showed no sympathy for Sideswipe in the least, watching the one sided conversation while gently petting the small form in her lap. It trembled slightly once more and Evelyn frown grew even darker.

_Wha- but if you knew why didn't you __**say**__ something?! _

"Because he's helpless, of course. He's lost his memory – if he thinks he's just a cat, do you think for one second I'm going to take advantage of that?" That the "cat" was both familiar and comforting, in a way, was a topic she refused to broach just then. A confused splutter was the only sound Sideswipe was allowed, before Evelyn continued on. "It would be wrong to take advantage of his condition. And I, for one, will have nothing to do with anything even remotely resembling that. Or anyone who tries. Get me?"

_But... _

"Did you forget the part where your stupid prank would have gotten us both _killed_? If he hadn't caught us and held on? HUH? Even while he knew something was wrong with me, he still wouldn't let go! He would have gone over the side with us if Ratchet hadn't shown up in time!"

This new, uncompromisingly flat tone to Evelyn's voice was something Sideswipe hadn't ever heard before. He'd heard her afraid, defiant, angry, sad and happy, and every variation in between... but never this. She wasn't even threatening him with any of those horrible Earth foods.

That she was making a very valid and sharp point in regards to a Decepticon saving both their lives, as it were, was something he was trying very hard not to think about. He briefly wondered how a disembodied spark could feel as though it were squirming in shame. Until Evelyn's next words sent despair coursing through his awareness.

"I'm talking to Wheeljack about the menu."

_Slag. I had to think I was off the hook there._

"For the next _month_."

* * *

**Note**: Took me a while to get this up, but real life dug its teeth in deep. Hopefully, next chapter won't take as long.

**JML**: Metellus is keeping a close eye on things – he's very well placed to do so, after all. )

**Tiamat1972**: Ha! My work here is done. ;)

**Starswoop**: There is indeed. Still, this is a 'con on an Autobot ship...


End file.
